One of those

I’m hurt but I don’t feel it.
Something of me is gone.
I walk the ground but
but I don’t feel the soil.
I use my hands
but I’m not whole.

They see me and
all walk away.
No touch am I allowed.
No love and no consideration.
I’m poor, rejected, on my own,
yet, I can’t live alone.

I’ve hurt myself
and still I do.
The sores are everywhere.
The greatest ache of all
I have, is not
feeling pain at all.
And still I hurt.

Some sores, have been done unto me.
Others, I’ve done myself.
The hardest pain
still is
that there is no pain at all.
If only I could feel.

There is no coming back
to wholeness.
No expectation, no hope for me.
Though, there’s a rumour
that in another land,
and in another time
One man has walked the earth
And touched my kind.

He made them feel again.
He gave them hopes and dreams,
He welcomed back to him
the ones they banished and
walked past.
He made them whole again.

I am one of that kind.
But blessed feet don’t
walk my land.
Rumours still go and come
onto the highways and the hedges.

I am still here waiting for
blessed feet to come.
Waiting for those hands
to welcome me.
I’m one of the unwhole.
I’m one of those they call
a leper.
(C) SFR 03/07/11